Ascensus sine Pace- L

“He climbs—

but does not arrive.”

There is always resistance.

Not outside alone—

but within.

Waves that do not settle.

Ground that does not hold.

A movement
that never fully rests.

So he continues.

Forward.

Upward.

Away
from what he cannot name.

The vessel breaks.

The path disappears.

Only one direction remains—

Up.

He grips what is left.

A fragment.

A rope.

A reason
just strong enough
to continue.

The surface resists him.

Sharp.

Unforgiving.

But he does not question it.

Because struggle
has become familiar.

What he climbs
feels like survival.

What he leaves behind
feels like necessity.

And yet—

there is something
he does not see.

Not because it is hidden.

But because he no longer looks.

What appears as obstacle

once carried
something else.

Connection.

Desire.

A presence
that asked to be met—

not conquered.

But distance changes perception.

And proximity
does not guarantee clarity.

So he climbs.

And when he reaches the top—

there is no silence.

No arrival.

Only space.

And something unresolved
that followed him all the way.

Because not every ascent
brings peace.

Some only reveal

what was missed
along the way.